


In Favour

by Morbane



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Constructive Criticism Welcome, Crossover, Fix-It, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 18:23:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4315575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morbane/pseuds/Morbane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn't a surprise to receive numbers relating to the Hunger Games.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Favour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kerithwyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerithwyn/gifts).



When Reese strode into Finch's loft, Finch took note of the frilled edges of the screens that flared out from his face, allowing holographic pseudo-tattoos to ripple across and beyond his features. Tacky, but Finch could see the advantage in an accessory that kept people from remembering even the shape of your face. Tacky, but it was the advent of the Hunger Games, and he was in - not _good_ company, but plenty of company. A soberly dressed person during festival time stood out badly.

Reese detached the screens from the sides of his face without comment. "Good morning, Mr Reese," Finch said.

"Good morning." John hadn't brought pastries or coffee this morning; now that his hands were unoccupied, they hung at his sides, not-quite-relaxed. Finch noted this, and wondered if, in fact, something was bothering John. If it was the Games, their current number would bring the issue to the fore.

"We have one number today," he said, deciding to be direct. He pointed to the set of pictures he had already put up on the wall.

John scanned them. "Snappy dresser," he commented. The man's sartorial choices were similar to John's own: dark suits that fit him well. Gold glitter accentuated dark, clear eyes.

"You could say that. He's a stylist for the Games."

John's eyes snapped back up; he studied the picture more closely. "So he is," John said, and Finch saw that John was beginning to recognize the man. "Well, there's any number of reasons someone might want to kill him. Another District's stylist. Hell, even a stylist on his own team might be lethally competitive. Victors. Sponsors."

Finch shook his head slightly. "Did you watch the pre-Games Interviews last night, Mr Reese?"

"Only caught the highlights."

"Ah. Cinna is the lead stylist for District Twelve."

John didn't miss a beat. "In that case, the first person who will want him dead is... President Snow."

"Precisely." Finch could not help a certain bitterness from pervading the word.

"He might encourage Cinna's natural rivals to do the job for him," John suggested.

"No," Finch said, waving aside the reassurance. "I suspect our President will take care of the matter directly."

There was a thoughtful pause.

It was one thing to operate in the Capitol under President Snow's presumed nose. It was another to thwart his wishes directly. 

Receiving the number, investigating the person, and taking in the implications, Finch had already asked himself if the risk might be worth it, to find out whether Snow already knew everything about them and tolerated them, or whether they truly had operated in secret until now. Yes, he had answered - for himself. But he couldn't answer for both of them.

John mused, "If we can fake his death somehow..." which was a partial acknowledgement of the risks, and at least amounted to acceptance of the mission.

The larger question remained unanswered, for now.


End file.
